Coffee and a Croissant
by dashinginconverse
Summary: "Spotted. Tall, ginger, and handsome at Starbucks." Or, how to stalk a WWE Superstar and not get caught - okay, the last part isn't exactly accurate. SheamusOC, oneshot


_**Disclaimer: **__This is just fiction. And I am a crazy fan. No worries, broskis._

_**Summary: "Spotted. Tall, ginger, and handsome at Starbucks." Or, how to stalk a WWE Superstar and not get caught - okay, the last part isn't exactly accurate. SheamusOC, oneshot**_

_Okay! So, this is my inaugural fic into the Wrestling fandom. I love the WWE, obviously, and I'm kinda iffy about posting this simply because I'm still getting used to…writing about everyone. It's still kind of odd. Maybe I'll get over it or something. I still giggle like a schoolgirl at the smut here - because some of it is very good and…well, yeah, I'm a total girl - but this is far from that. This is just a fun, silly little fic, not to be taken seriously. Somehow, I have the image of a gaggle of wrestlers stumbling upon this site and being all OMG. Anyway, I'm rambling. Please enjoy! (And sorry for the lengthy AN.)_

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><p><strong>Coffee and a Croissant<strong>

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><p>I have to say, I have succumbed to the lure of Starbucks.<p>

Denying the bright green sign was something that I always had pride about. I didn't _long_ for the peppermint mocha or the caramel frappuccino like so many of my friends. I wanted to stay away from the caffeine, wanted to be the master of my taste buds. I didn't need their sugary confections, dolled up with whipped cream and nice looking scones. I could see the look on my friends' faces when they missed just a day, their faces pinched and their brows wrinkled as they tried to fight off a caffeine-headache.

Sure, I was glad that I had denied myself the allure of Starbucks.

That is, until finals week.

Starbucks became my best friend during my last year of college while I worked tirelessly to gain my doctorate in psychology. It kept me up during long nights, letting me study and work on the long papers that were related to my case study and write my notes over and over again, not to mention the calm atmosphere and the lovely smell of the place…

Thus, my addiction.

Make fun all you like, but some things are just left up to fate. Like my utter need for Starbucks.

But of course, that is not the most interesting aspect of the Starbucks that I frequently inhabit, constantly using their Wi-Fi and sipping on a macchiato on my days off.

No, no, the most interesting aspect of my favorite local was the man that just entered, looking calm and confident, strong shoulders pulled back and an adorable hat on his head.

I stared at this man, this absolute chunk of perfection that just happened to enter my coffee-clouded world. How had I never seen him before? I felt the beginnings of a girly shriek top end all girly shrieks start to form in my throat and I clamped my mouth shut over it.

Immediately, I sent a text to one of my caffeine-addled friends, _Spotted. Tall, ginger, and handsome at Starbucks._

I then looked away from my phone and back to the man that had walked in, feeling my heart thud slightly as I caught sight of him. He smiled at the guy behind the counter and ordered a triple shot latte - holy mother of potatoes. _He's __**Irish**__!_ - something I wouldn't touch originally.

The coffee was done in record time - seriously, you'd think the guy was a celebrity by the way they waited on him - and he left, sipping his coffee as he went.

I blinked as I watched him walk away, wondering despite myself how anyone could manage to become so attractive. What did they have in the water in Ireland anyway?

I turned back to my coffee, sadly residing myself to the fact that it would be a rare and wonderful feat if I saw Mr. Ginger again, when my phone beeped. I read the text message that appeared and fought back a laugh.

_Looks like the psychologist needs a therapy session._

Yeah, I probably did.

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><p>Surprisingly enough, it wasn't too long before I found myself staring face to face - or rather, face to back - with the mysterious Irishman from before. Only about two days had passed since then, and I was surprised that I saw him again.<p>

I noticed that he wasn't wearing the hat from the first time I saw him. His hair was spiked up. It was like a great, ginger magnet at which I found myself staring openly.

I listened carefully - probably too carefully if I was being honest with myself - as his thick brogue sounded out, sending chills down my spine even as he ordered a black coffee with a triple shot.

All that caffeine…maybe that was what caused his hair to stick up.

Again, the guy that took his order started to fix his coffee rather quickly. Record time, I must say. This guy must be someone important.

The coffee was given shakily to the large man in front of me. I still couldn't believe how lucky I was to actually be in line after him. It was a rather nice view, if I do say so myself. The man could really fill out a pair of jeans. I tried to work up the courage to talk to him, but I had never been that good with speaking to people I found remarkably attracted to.

"Thanks, fella," he said. I felt myself blush and found myself staring as he turned around, the coffee cup clenched in his large hand. He must have caught me staring, because then he grinned and nodded his head as if to say hello.

Like the brilliant person I am, I gaped like a fish.

I thought I heard him chuckle as he moved to sit down at one of the window seats. I found that I was staring and was then plucked out of my reverie when the coffee boy said, impatiently, "Is it your usual, miss?"

I jolted as the ginger-haired Thor-like specimen turned to look at me. Had the guy been that loud? I cringed and blushed, turning back to the guy that was waiting on me. _Oh, of course._ I looked at his nametag subconsciously, registering that his name was Shane. _Of course it would be the rude one to announce to the store how I was eye-fornicating with the guy over there._

I shrugged and ordered a white chocolate mocha.

My order took much longer than the guy that used to be in front of me - who I kept stealing glances at every now and then…maybe more than that. It was amazing how much leeway attractive people were given. Not that I could blame them. I'd give that guy as much leeway as he wanted…

I felt my cheeks turn rose red once again, just as Shane handed me my coffee. "Maybe you don't need a hot beverage, lady. You look like a boiled lobster."

I growled at him and snatched my mocha away from him.

I always dreaded the days _Shane _worked. There always was the one guy, wasn't there? The one guy that wanted to make your coffee experience a living nightmare? Shane was it. Most definitely.

I marched over to my usual spot, feeling the fact that I was currently unemployed seep into my very center, before pulling out a chair and slumping down onto its cushions, trying to avoid the eyes that I felt were on me.

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><p>The next time I saw him, I was in my usual spot. Of course. I watched him order his usual with a smile on his face. Like before, he was able to get his coffee in record time, something that I was determined to try and accomplish it myself.<p>

I failed, to say the least.

This time he purchased one of those little vanilla bean scones - okay, it looked to be about five - and made his way to what I was hoping was his own spot. Maybe he would be a permanent fixture in my Starbucks experience.

Hey, I never said I wasn't desperate.

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><p>After that day, he didn't show for a while. I wasn't sure why, but I felt that it might have had to be due to my inappropriate staring…I'd have to remember to make an adjustment to that. Maybe bring something reflective to see him without actually turning my head…<p>

Okay. That was creepy.

I was beginning to think that he would never come by the Starbucks again, thinking that maybe somehow he'd freed himself of the chains of caffeine addiction. Maybe I should track him down so he'd help me out in that respect.

And _that _was even creepier.

I forced all thoughts of turning complete stalker on the guy's ass as I made my way up the line, trying to figure out what poison I'd pick today. I found myself distracted with my thoughts, so just as - oh, crap, it was Shane again - I got up to the counter, I had no idea what I was getting. Ah, the nightmare of every consumer.

I blurted out something. I wasn't even sure what I ordered. I moved over to the side and waited to receive my cup of hot, steaming whatever and sighed.

I turned around and promptly banged into a hard, rock-solid chest.

The way I'd been holding the coffee caused a bit of it to slosh out onto the front of my chest instead of onto whoever the person was. I bit back a curse and started spewing apologies, "Oh, I'm so, so sorry! I - "

I looked up and there was the ginger-haired man of my dreams.

"Not your fault," he replied with a charming smile. "I was the one trying to talk to you."

"No shit," I found the words tumbling out of my mouth, tinged with disbelief.

He laughed at that, reaching over my shoulder and grabbing a handful of napkins before handing them to me. I looked down at the fistful of brown paper before lifting my eyes up to meet his. I felt a blush flash across my cheeks and took the napkins before wiping the hot coffee that had spilled onto my shirt.

"Sorry," he said, his voice sounding strangely sincere.

I smiled at him, "No problem."

Urg, was this how my first - and most likely _only _- encounter with him was going to go? Probably.

"Oh my God!" a voice came from behind the counter. "You're Sheamus!"

I jolted and turned around to see where the voice came from. It was from one of the Starbucks workers, a blonde with a vacant expression in her eyes.

Hottie McGinger - Sheamus, I guess his name was - turned to the girl and gave her a light smile, "Yeah, guess I am."

I looked from Sheamus to Blondie, a clueless look on my face, no doubt. "Um…what?"

She smacked her gum and looked at me. "Duh, clueless. He's Sheamus. From the WWE."

WWE, huh? I found that I was staring at him in a new light. Well, that's probably why he was built like a Norse god. I suddenly was assaulted with the image of the man in those little tights and found myself giggling like a schoolgirl.

Sheamus turned and quirked a brow at me. "Laughing at me, are ya?"

"Urm…no. Not at all." _Just picturing you half naked. Which should be flattering._ Of course that didn't leave my mouth, thank Hogan.

Sheamus seemed to know what I was talking about because he laughed, and the sound of it was enough to make me laugh along with him. He motioned over to my usual spot and said, "Mind if I join you?"

This made me pause. Out of all the things I'd been expecting out of this day, I had not had the foresight to consider that this would happen. "Sure," I said meekly, walking over to my table. Sheamus took the seat opposite to me and started to smile. "Um…don't you want to get anything?" I said, noticing that he was completely absent of his strong coffee and his vanilla bean scones.

"Nah, I got what I came for."

He surely knew how to lure in a lady.

"What a line," I told him, and he laughed accordingly.

"Worked, didn't it?"

"…maybe."

Sheamus again laughed - I don't think I'd ever tire of that sound - and said, "I'll be back." He rose and walked to the counter, where people practically parted like the Red Sea for him. I watched him walk away for a few lingering seconds before whipping out my phone and texting my friend.

_Ginger is here! And he's sitting with me! His name is Sheamus! _Yeah, I don't pride myself on being subtle.

Sheamus was walking in my direction, holding a cup of Joe and a bag full of scones. My phone beeped and I read the text quickly, _Seriously. You need to get evaluated._

Maybe so. But as Sheamus and I started to talk, I realized that if being evaluated meant me losing this, I'd have to pass.

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><p><em><strong>End.<strong>_


End file.
